


Social Cues

by hoHbOi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: #freefleamont2k19, AU, Alternate Universe - Magic, BAMF Lily Evans Potter, Espionage, Eventual James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, F/M, Free Fleamont, London, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Spying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-06 03:43:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18842929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoHbOi/pseuds/hoHbOi
Summary: A heavy AU where magical and muggle society are combined, except only the magical have social and political power. There is a strict and oppressive caste system with the Pure Blood wizards at the top and Muggles at the bottom. The Pure Bloods use the threat of their magical abilities to control the commoners, and any commoner born with magic is refused training to prevent them from growing strong enough to fight back. Most commoners are resigned in this system, but not all. Some have banded together across the castes to create a resistance and ultimately turn the whole system on its head.Enter Sirius Black, James Potter, Lily Evans, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. They are all in separate castes but share the same goal of ending the system.Sirius needs to make amends for his family's crimes. James needs to finish his father's work. Lily needs to avenge her friend's death. Remus needs to fight for his own right to be alive. And Peter... Peter doesn't really know what he's doing.Along their own personal journeys they meet each other and help propel everyone towards their end in a swirl of love, hate, betrayal, and most of all, danger.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Castes explained:
> 
>  
> 
> The Pure Blooded are the highest caste, they are rich with extensive magical training and complete control over society. The Middling Wizards are persons with magic who work within magical society but have no social or political influence. Magical Commoners are born into commoner caste with magic, and are both untrained magically and poor. Non-Magical Commoners are the same but with no magical ability. The final and lowest caste is the Un-Citizens. They are non-humans or squibs, and can be either magical or non-magical but not have receive any education. They are given no rights and are treated as unworthy of respect or even life.

It was altogether a much too nice morning for bad news. The birds were chirping among themselves and their songs carried in on a breeze entering through the wide-open bay windows. The breeze was brisk and had the scent of autumn. It was only September, so the young man living in the townhouse could leave the windows open without having to withstand too much of a chill. As a middling rank wizard, he was lucky to have such pleasant view of London. After his mother’s death he had been living alone until he hired his maid four months ago. The young woman was hardly ever around, but the man could not find it in himself to fire her after she had been so desperate for the job. With just the two of them the slender townhouse was never too cramped. Not like it had been when he was a child. The wizard started his day like any other, waking up at 7 and watching the sunrise over London while he sipped his morning coffee. Today his maid was actually here and had prepared a really excellent cup. The steam was fogging his glasses but still could not dull the beauty of the sun crawling over a London skyline. However, the letter in his hand could.  

The thick parchment laid heavy and rough as he read it. The quill that had written it was obviously dull from over use and under care, as one would expect of the quills provided to inmates in Azkaban. But the calligraphy was still legible. It was handwriting that he knew, that had taught him his magical lessons. And the handwriting that stopped appearing on the chalkboard seven years ago, when the man was only 12. But he still remembered how the swirling letters had taught him the eight principles of abiotic transfiguration. That of course wasn’t what they were saying at the moment.  

After a brief skim of the first line, he already understood the letter’s contents. And he already felt the tears coming to the back of his eyes. But he blinked them back, not prepared to cry in front of his maid who was slicing a cantaloupe behind him. He hadn’t known what he expected. But his emotions were getting the better of him and he needed a moment of privacy. He folded the letter back into thirds, tucked it into the pocket of his robes, and walked out of his kitchen. He continued the path to his office up the narrow staircase and through the heavily warded door. He felt the buzz of magic as he pushed through the membrane in front of the door. Once it recognized him, he could pass through and enter the dusty room.  

Only when the door had shut and the man sat at his desk, did he really read the letter.  

 _Dear Son,_  

 _I am sorry to say that this will be our last correspondence. That is a terrible way for me to start this letter, but I felt I must get it out of the way. The appeal failed; the judge refused to hear my case again. The guards say that I was only permitted letters when we were preparing for retrial. I will not be able to write you again, I am ‘too much of a flight risk.’_  

 _I can only hope that I will still be alive after my remaining 25 years to see you again. Or perhaps we can hope that the leaders of our country change before then, and whoever comes to power deigns to free_ _an old political prisoner like myself_ _._ _Just don’t wait for me, son. Live your life without having to stick around for your treasonous old man to get out._  

 _If this is to be my last letter, I must reiterate some tired apologies that I would hate if I never got to tell you again. I am sorry I left you and your mother. I am sorry I was not there for you after she passed. I am sorry I was not there for so many things. I am sorry that I never got to teach you the Animagus enchantment and I am sorry I never got to start you at your first internship. I am sorry that you will have to work much harder to get far in this world because of my crimes. I am sorry that you never got to see your friends again because their parents wouldn’t let them speak to the child of a traitor. I am sorry that for all the good I believe I did; you were the one to suffer the most._  

 _And I want you to know two things. One, I am so incredibly proud of the man you have become. You were always the bravest child. Always the first to defend your friends, always ready for a challenge. I know that you have grown into an even braver, even kinder man. And I know your mother felt the same way._  

 _And the second thing. I regret absolutely nothing. I am proud of my crimes and only_ _wish I had never been caught._ _I would have continued to betray the government. I hate that I had to leave you and your mother, but I wouldn’t take back any of the work I did or the good people I saved. I chose my path. It is past time for you to choose yours. I raised you as a free thinker, don’t waste it._  

 _Love,_  

 _Fleamont_ _Potter_  

James Potter could barely read through the tears in his eyes once he reached the bottom of the page. He had taken off his glasses to wipe his eyes and now the room was twice as blurry. Hands shaking, he folded the letter up again in a clumsy approximation of thirds and tucked it into the old sticky drawer of the desk already crowded with a great accumulation of junk. Then he felt himself collapse. James Potter deflated, seven years of fight falling out of him as his mind struggled to process the news presented in that fateful piece of parchment removed from view.

He sat on the dusty floor of his father's old office, marveling at the remaining evidence of his father's presence in the room seven years ago. The drawers still full of Fleamont's possessions. The shelves full of potion bottles with fading labels in his father's script. And most painfully, the photos. Half a dozen photos his father had taken of his mother and their family were still displayed in their frames. There was Euphemia in her wedding robes, smiling at the camera blissfully. Every so often her figure in the photo would turn to wave at someone behind her, or take a bite out of the slice of cake in her hand. James hated that photo most of all because of how healthy she looked, before the illness had leached color from her skin and hollowed her cheeks. Back when his mother had round cheeks and you couldn't see her bones through her robes, not a face sharp with cheek bones and weighed down by eye bags. And there were other photos. One of James toppling off his first broomstick only to climb back on a second later, grinning. And another of his father standing on his boat that he was so proud of, forming complex shapes with his hands, which were blurred by magic and distance in the photo, to magically tie knots in the ropes. The most recent one, taken just weeks before his father's arrest, was of an eleven year old James with his hair slicked back, playing with the expensive clasps of the mini version of his father's business clothes that he was wearing. He remembers the day, when his father had brought him into the ministry to see his work. James had been so excited, back when he thought he could have followed in his father's footsteps and become an important politician. Back when the Potters were still welcome in Pureblood society.

All the memories encased in these photos were obsolete. Dead and gone, James thought bitterly. Although that sentiment was perhaps a little too literal in his mothers case, but James could not bring himself to care. And he definitely could not bring himself to look at the seven or more years old photos, collecting dust in the study a second longer. He flexed and bent the first two fingers on his right hand at the framed photographs in a casual display of magic. And, as if one terribly strong gust of wind had just come through the closed window, all of the frames were knocked face down, the painful memories knocked out of sight. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I worked really hard on this and it would be so great if you could comment and let me know if you liked it! I really really really really really really hoped you enjoyed this because if it flops then i just wasted a lot of time planning it out. SO COMMENT PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU I NEED POSITIVE FEEDBACK TO SURVIVE


	2. Chapter 2

If there was such a thing as slicing a cantaloupe guiltily, then Lily Evans was doing it. She wished she hadn’t read that deeply personal letter. It was not her place to be opening all her employer’s mail and reading it before he saw it. Except that it was. And she felt guilty for having read the last words a treasonous father had for his son he hadn’t seen in seven years, but the re  was a reason for it. There was actually a very good reason, in her opinion, for her bypassing the tampering wards, unsealing the envelope, and reading the letter inside. She had to know if she could trust Mr. Potter.  What she was going to ask him to do, well she had to be sure he would say yes. The consequences of him saying no would not be worth any risk.

Lily wiped her hands on a towel and began carrying the tray of sweet fruit up to the office. Mr. Potter had fled there after opening his letter and she felt somewhat  sorry  to disturb him.  He had just learned of some unpleasant news, and he had the right to process it in privacy.  But she had to see his reaction. She had to see how he responded to his father claiming to be proud of treason. So ,  she held the tray in one hand, tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear, and knocked twice on the door. “I’ve brought up your breakfast, sir.”

“I’m sorry Ms. Evans, now really isn’t a good time.” The voice was raspy, and Lily guessed he must have been crying. How marvelous! Not that she enjoyed the suffering of the man. As far as Wizards go, he was far kinder than most she met. He was always polite to her and paid her far better than she deserved for all the time she was absent. But if he was mourning the failure of his father’s appeal then he must still care for the man. That is, despite the crimes he committed. Perhaps he even admired his father more for  Fleamont  Potter’s brave actions. There was little way for Lily to tell  while  standing outside the door.

“Are you quite alright? You have never once skipped breakfast in all my time working for you.” And this was true, Mr. Potter never skipped any meals. And astounding fact really considering Lily’s cooking was  absolutely terrible .

“Yes... Well actually no I’m not.” He breathed a heavy sigh through the door.

Lily was getting impatient standing there and her hand was cramping from holding up the tray. She was afraid that if she stood like that much longer her hand would dip and the toast would slide right off. “May I come in?”

“...Yes.”

Lily pushed through the wards that were cast to allow her passage and entered the room. The first thing she saw was James Potter sitting on the floor of all places. He had his glasses closed and hanging on the pocket of his navy robe s . His eyes were unfocused and red from crying, and his hair was a mess. But after four months working for him, she knew that his hair was like that all the time. 

She sent the tray down on the floor, and, as it seemed like the thing to do, sat down right across from the wizard. But now she didn’t know what to do. What does one say to their arrogant magical boss when he is crying on the floor? And what does one say to convince said boss to trust them when one was just looking through said boss’s mail and really does not deserve any trust. She went with, “The cantaloupe is delicious today.”

Surprisingly, it seemed like the right thing. The man huffed a laugh and began eating. Lily sat there as he ate his breakfast and felt a little miffed. She was terrible at offering emotional support, and Potter wasn’t crying anymore, so she wasn’t sure why she was still sitting there. Except her boss, her real boss that is, not Potter, had told her that they needed results soon. They were running out of money and she had to know if she could trust  Mr.  Potter or not. He had just read his father’s last ever words for him, was it too soon to ask him to commit  the same  treason?

Apparently, this was not up to Lily to decide. Potter had put his glasses back on and finished eating the fruit on the tray. He seemed to now want to make a conversation with Lily though, which was odd because they hardly ever spoke outside of their professional relationship. “You really went all out on breakfast, Ms. Evans.” He said while looking at the tray laden with fruit, toast, oats, and  marmalades .

She had put more effort into it today, taking time to make his coffee perfect, in her own way of apologizing for reading his mail. Not that he knew she had done that.  And  that didn’t mean her cooking was good. “I burnt the toast.” She had, the toast on the plate was dark brown and resembled a brick more strongly than bread. She laughed at herself, for all the intelligent espionage she did, she hadn’t noticed that she burnt the toast.

And Potter was laughing too. And Lily was strangely proud to have pulled him out of his wallowing sadness. “Tell me why I pay you again?” He said jokingly.

“Mr. Potter, I am well aware I only got this job for my looks!” She replied in the same tone. She felt that same pride again when the man in front of her laughed  a second time . The thing is, they both knew why she got the job despite being so incompetent. It was because she cried during the interview over how her younger brother would die if she didn’t make money to buy him medicine. The story may not have been true for her, but it was for people she knew. And something with the same theme was true for every commoner. That is why Mr. Potter believed it so readily. 

Now he was looking at her  and his brown eyes were  much more serious.  He had an uncanny ability to joke around one minute and then make his tone do a smooth 180 into something  incredibly  intent.  “You are a commoner, correct Ms. Evans?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And you have no magical abilities?”

“No, sir.” This was a lie.

“You don’t need to call me sir, I’m barely of age as it is.” 

“Alright.” Lily was fine with this request; she was horrible at remembering to address him as sir anyway. She knew for a fact that she was a few months older than him so really, she should be the one called--

“Does life treat you well as a Non-Magical Commoner?” He was whispering now, and Lily suddenly realized where this was going. 

“Do you want the truth?” She asked, trying to meet his eyes with the same intent his held.  But  she wasn’t sure she could do it without revealing too much.

“I wish you would never lie to me, Miss Evans.” Lily couldn’t keep meeting his eyes after that. Everything he knows about her is a lie.

“No. Life does not treat us well. There is little room for living between working and dying for most.” This might have been one of the truest things she had told him.

“What can I do to help with that?” He asked, leaning so far over the tray now that his hand was in the marmalade and he hadn’t  even  noticed. Or maybe he had but apparently whatever Lily had to say was far more important than that. 

She swallowed and looked down at her lap for a second, weighing her options. Here he was, the man she had been sent to spy on just to get his support on the resistance, sitting in front of her, asking to help. But did that mean he was ready to commit treason? Or was he more asking if she knew of any good charities? But she looked up, saw that incredible intention in his eyes again, and took the leap of faith. “You c an  join the resistance.”

He pulled back. He looked more confused than intent, “What would you know about the resistance, Ms. Evans?” Now she was worried that she had revealed too much. She wished she knew if she could trust James or not. But she had already begun, she might as well see where this went. If she was in danger the resistance could help her disappear again.

She had lifted his hand out of the marmalade and was using her apron to wipe it off. Potter’s eyes were trained on their hands when she spoke.  “More than you, sir.”

James Potter was a smart man. That was a fact. Even though his peers liked to pretend he was not. At 19 he had mastered more magic than most wizards would in their lifetimes. That is why it was so surprising that it took him this long to put things together. The missing magical books from his library. The way his wards randomly dispelled. The frequency of resistance attacks in his neighborhood but never his house. The maid with lovely green eyes and a terrible work ethic. And his father’s work. But sitting on his office floor, with a hand covered in marmalade, he made the connection.

When Potter raised his eyes to Lily, she was already staring back at him. She knew that he had made the connection for himself. She just met his eyes with her best,  _ yeah-I'm-in-the-resistance-what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it? -stare.  _ But it was so hard to maintain when he was giving her a look of genuine betrayal. She was his  _ maid _ . She really did not think that he trusted her much in the first place.

_ “ _ Yes. I understand now, excuse me.” He stood, pulling his hand away. He wiped the marmalade on his robes and Lily cringed slightly. She knew that it would be up to her to wash that later. If she wasn’t fired of course.

“Don’t tell me I misjudged you.” He was walking out the door, but Lily didn’t even turn her head to address him.

“I- I don’t know. How did you judge me?” He was stopped in his path now. She almost had him. Alastor would be so pleased with her if she got the Potter family fortune to back them again.

“As a good, brave man. The kind that would fight for what's right.” 

“You don’t mean those things. Don’t appeal to my vanity.”

“Then make me mean them. This is your chance to convince me of your bravery. Don’t waste it.” Oh, it was cruel of her to quote the letter. But he needed the reminder of his father’s words. Of what his father wanted.

And that did it. James Potter turned around, sat again on the dusty floor of his study, and conspired to commit treason. “What does the resistance want from me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't forget to drop a comment :)))) please i need comments to survive. say anything, if you liked it or if you hated it. just hmu bbs!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter from Lily's pov because, ngl, i just fucking love her. hope y'all like it!!!

Lily was sitting at Potter’s dining room table, writing a letter to her boss. She and Mr. Potter had finished their discussion upstairs about the part he would take in the resistance. He seemed somewhere between disappointed and relieved when she told him that he needn’t do more than his father had done. That is, use their immense wealth to buy the resistance supplies, allow their large library to be used to educate resistance members in magic, and act as a safe house for resistance members on the run. He said he could do more, but Lily told him that this would be plenty. She didn’t tell him how the resistance could barely afford to feed themselves of late, or how they likely would have disbanded if she hadn’t secured his money.

Lily was writing her boss because she had to tell him that she secured the Potter fortune and that they could move on with their plans. She was about to start placing some advanced wards on the letter to make sure that only her or Mad Eye could open it, but then Potter sat down with her holding two cups of tea.

“Well, Ms. Evans, when do I get to meet your boss?” 

“You are my boss.” Her voice was sly as she pointed out the fact that she was still technically his employee, yet he was the one making her tea.

“You know what I mean, your boss in the,” his eyes flickered about the room nervously and he whispered the last word, “ _ resistance.” _

She tried to give him a reassuring look.  _ “ _ Trust me, we can talk here. I made sure that this is one of the most safely warded places in all of London.”  _ Merlin _ , she had been thorough.  _ ‘Constant Vigilance’  _ as Mad Eye always said. 

“How did you do that?”

“I am the resistance’s expert in security warding. I do the enchantments on all the safe houses.” 

“You have magic?” She had forgotten that he didn’t know that. She had forgotten that they had spoken more today than in the past fo u r months of their acquaintance combined. 

She took a sip of her tea and said, “Yes.”  He looked downcast at having learned another lie Lily had told him. Like he was tired of the people in his life lying to him. And it hurt for her to see that.

“Oh. Where did you learn?” Lily was a  _ spy.  _ A trained resistance member. She had been an outlaw for five years, and there were multiple warrants for her arrest. She was  _ badass.  _ Why was she so affected by Potter frowning?

“Books. Lots of them. Not everyone was given fancy tutors, we have to make do.”

“I never had a tutor. I know I still have way more privilege than I or anyone deserves, but I was never tutored. My parents, they wanted to teach me themselves.” He spoke quickly and finished the sentences looking unsure as to why he had started it. This reassured Lily to hear him acknowledge and denounce his privilege. Perhaps he could provide more to the resistance than just money.

“Well, I didn’t have parents to teach me either.”

“Are your parents...?”

“No, no, they’re fine. They just, they don’t know a thing about magic. And they would get mad whenever I practiced mine. It’s just, it is so stupid to have this beautiful ability but not be allowed to use it.” Now Lily was frustrated at Potter for getting her to share so much. She had gotten through the first four months without him knowing more than her name and a fake sob story, why was she suddenly telling him all this about herself?

“I’m sorry. That must be terrible. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I couldn’t use my magic.”

“It’s fine- well no, it’s not, that’s why we’re doing this. But I manage, I use magic anyway. It could be a lot worse. At least I'm allowed to live.”  _ Like how the Un-Citizen aren’t.  _ But she didn’t say that last part. It was the most controversial part of her belie f s. Very few people agreed that the non-humans and squibs deserved rights. She suspected that Potter might not. That’s okay, not everyone in the resistance does. So, she moved on. “To answer your question, you won’t get to meet my boss.”

He looked confused for a second before he remembered what he had asked earlier. “How am I supposed to help then?”

“Through me. That is how all communications run in the resistance. To ensure everyone’s security only the person who recruited you and anyone you recruit know your identity. For example, unless you recruit someone, I will be the only person to ever know your real name. You will be safe unless I turn. And I won’t.”

“Is Lily Evans your real name?”

“Yes.” The window was still open, and the breeze had just gotten chillier as the morning passed. She shivered even though she wore a sweater when Potter gave her another intent look and used her full name. She still wasn’t sure why she had applied to work here with her real name. It would have been much safer to use an alias. But she hadn’t.

“I’m just not sure how much you told me about yourself was true.” He must have been cold too, but he hadn’t touched his tea. It just sat in front of him, swirling with steam in the cold air. A shame really, Lily thought. Because Potter made a far better cup of tea than she ever had. 

She sighed and wrapped her hands around her mug to warm them. “Not much. But now that we’re on the same side, I won’t tell you anymore lies. This is too dangerous for us not to trust each other. I hope you can forgive me.” She shouldn’t have said she would stop telling lies. That would be impossible. But she would not betray him, that much is true.

He cleared his throat and looked at his tea as if he had just noticed it. “Thank you. I- I don’t know if I can trust you yet, but I guess I have to. Fuck- I'm scared. I just- I don’t want what happened to my father to happen to me. I don’t want to go to Azkaban.”

Lily remember ed  when she first joined the resistance. She had been only 14 years old and on the run from the night police. And she was so terrified, she thought she was going to be found and killed. Alastor had found her and helped her, and then made the resistance out to be her only option. Looking back now she’s not sure of that was true. 

Alastor  hadn’t done much to ease her fears when she joined. Potter was no  14-year-old  girl, but maybe Lily could still help him adjust better. “It’s alright. You’re doing the right thing, even though we’re all scared. There’s nothing to do but continue anyway. And you won’t go to Azkaban. I promise you.”

He took a deep breath and calmed down. “Thank you. And for what it’s worth, I won’t tell a soul who you are. You aren’t going to Azkaban either.”

She gave him a sad smile. “I hope that I can trust you, James Potter.”

“And I you, Lily Evans.” That may have been the second time he ever used her first name. And she was going to have to correct him, even though she loved the way his lips formed the syllables.

“You can’t call me that. My name. Now that we are in covert activities together, we must only operate with code names.”

“Oh,” he was disappointed at first. Like he also enjoyed saying her name. “Oh! I get a code name then!” He was grinning again with a childish delight at getting to use a code name.

“Yep, it has to be secure but easy to remember. For example, m y boss, code name Mad Eye, was the one to recruit me.  I’m thinking for you...” She looked him up and down quickly. “Specs.”

“Hey! That’s not cool at all. I was thinking something like, Lion 5, or Code Red.”

“Lion is taken, and it would be very confusing to have two Lions.”

“Who’s Lion?”

She rolled her eyes although she didn’t mind him much at all right now. “You know I can’t tell you that. I don’t even know who they are,”

“What about Code Red?”

“Why Code? You’re not a code. We have actual codes; you can’t call yourself a code. Also, I’m already Red.”

“See?! You got a cool one!  _ Red.” _

_ “ _ So, you didn’t like Specs. What else could you be called? Don’t worry about it being cool. If everything goes right, then no one will ever connect your Cryptonym to James Potter.”

“Okay, okay, no pressure. How about... Prongs?”

“Prongs. I like it.” She smiled. “Nice to meet you, Agent Prongs. You may call me Red.”

He grinned back at her and it almost felt like her world was fitting into place. They were sitting alone, in that dusty little flat, giggling at each other like school children over the silly secret names they made up like their lives weren’t on the line every second. And it felt like they had a plan. Lily often felt so lost in the deep, nameless pit that was the resistance operations. Now she wasn’t alone. Together they could survive this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am absolutely loving writing james and lilys interactions! i'm a little unsure of my characterization of lily so far, so let me know in the comments if you think i did well, or if you have any criticism. I just really love feedback from my fav readers (y'all)


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